Between Processors and Consumers

You’ve heard the expression “between Scylla and Charybdis,” a situation in which Ulysses found himself during his turbulent voyage. 
   Today, that expression is known more commonly as “between a rock and a hard place.”
   Well, I once occupied such an ambivalent, unenviable position. In fact, you might have called it surreal.
   Back in the days of NARI—the National Association of Recycling Industries—the organization’s membership encompassed not only most of the well-known scrap metal processors in the United States and Canada, but also a strong group of scrap consumers. 
   The processors formed the metal dealers division, while the consumers—such as brass and bronze ingotmakers, secondary aluminum smelters, lead battery manufacturers, zinc secondaries, and so on—were in a segment called the metal consumers division.
   I was secretary for both divisions. Those dual positions were fraught with legalistic as well as personal perils since these groups often took opposing views on important trade issues of the day. Yet no one, on either side of the fence, ever asked me to abdicate my position.
   The metal dealers division was the largest and most vociferous group in NARI, consisting of nonferrous scrap processors. The division’s leader often went on to become president of NARI.
   The metal consumers division, however, was also a powerful unit since it consisted of companies that purchased scrap. Some of the officers of these companies also reached top positions in NARI.
   Talk about a Dr. Jekyll-and-Mr. Hyde complex. I would sit in at the metal dealers division, listening to the processors’ complaints about rejections, high-handed consumer tactics, and calculated purchasing procedures. Then I’d go into a metal consumers division meeting to hear the consumers’ reports of poor scrap shipments, late deliveries, and contractual failures. It was enough to drive a man to see a psychiatrist.
   Most of the time, the two groups managed to coexist. The larger concept of “good for the industry” overcame petty squabbles and made it possible for spokespersons from major consumer companies to sit together with owners of medium or large scrap companies and rationally discuss subjects of importance to both.
   Thus, for example, when the issue of scrap specifications came to the fore, the consumers (though many of them didn’t use NARI’s scrap specs) were willing to sit in meetings and make their views known on what scrap specs they’d deem acceptable.
   One time, however, things turned critical. In that era, consumers strongly believed that if they had difficulty securing scrap, they could turn to Washington for help in imposing an embargo on scrap exports. If an embargo seemed too much to ask for, they’d request limits on scrap shipments. 
   Ironically, such scrap controls were being requested by the same companies who were complaining that the government was meddling in their business. But when the market for scrap was excellent and exporters had opportunities to sell their material overseas, consumers found the competition too aggressive and were ready to ask the government to limit the flow of scrap exports.
   Just such a situation occurred in copper scrap. 
   At the metal consumers division meeting, voices called for an embargo. It was decided, after some discussion, that the division would draft a memorandum on this subject and send it to the Department of Commerce. As secretary, I was asked to develop and write the memorandum.
   But wait, the metal dealers division caught wind of this and it, too, wanted to take some action on the subject. The group wanted to tell the Department of Commerce to not impose an embargo. So it, too, decided to write a memorandum. And who did the division ask to write the memorandum? Moi!
   Their requests put me in an intolerable position, and I urged the two groups to get someone else to do the job. 
   My pleas fell on deaf ears. Both divisions insisted that I write the memorandums, and they refused to bow to legality or plain common sense.
   I recall our executive vice president telling both groups how ridiculous these dueling memos would appear to the Department of Commerce.
   But one consumer member viewed the situation differently: In his view, having me write both memos would reveal the democratic nature of the association, which could contain two entities that—though opposing each other at times—could achieve harmony on most issues. That view won out.
   For two weeks, I worked diligently over the two drafts, trying not to become schizoid. Looking back, I can honestly say that I tried to be as dispassionate, objective, accurate, and honest as I could. When I wrote the consumers’ brief, I wiped out entirely from my mind the processors’ position, and vice versa. 
   You think it can’t be done? I tell you I did it.
   Finally, both briefs were submitted to the Department of Commerce, and nobody jeered. The officials in charge decided against an embargo, which was, of course, a victory for the processors. To this day, however, I believe that the consumers’ memo was just as good and just as persuasive.
   As for the members of the two divisions, they showed me that there were no hard feelings. The plaque I received from the metal consumers division is still a comforting reminder of the many friends I had in that group. 
   And when I look at my rather expensive wristwatch, given to me by the metal dealers division, its time takes me back to the days I spent with some wonderfully dedicated and active members of the scrap industry.
   If nothing else, this experience proves that if you work hard enough, you can reconcile what at first seem like irreconcilable positions for the good of an entire industry. •